somethingspecial | Entries tagged with it's lonely at the top

To anyone that has ever died --

[It's quiet, and Rachel pauses, noticeably.]

-- is there a way of getting what you lost back?

[She's died. She's terrified of wandering Adstringendum alone and can't work up the nerve to go to her theatre after what happened there. She has yet to figure out what her death price is. Anna is gone from Adstringendum. And Rachel, who spends every waking moment of her time singing whenever things gets too much, isn't allowed to sing.

Luckily, she can dance. Which is exactly what she is doing, when the feed clicks on -- Rachel is at the dojo, in a corner of it, dressed in exercise clothing, sweating profusely as the music to one of the only working casettes she has working blasts out of the old boombox she has rigged into working. The choreography Rachel is using is directly from the original video and she is putting everything she has into replicating one of the most famous pieces of dancing in the history of music. After all, this is reportedly the best album of all time -- Rachel should do it justice.

But when she spins, she spins a little too quickly, and her feet catch together and, to her horror, Rachel falls squarely, yelping as she lands on her behind. She's still for a moment -- and the Van Halen solo kicks in -- and suddenly, Rachel darts to her feet and moves to a cloth dummy in the corner, and she begins punching it. As hard as she can, repeatedly, and she nearly knocks it over in her rush to pulverize the living hell out of the sparring dummy, perfectly in time to the bass of Michael Jackson's hit, before she punches it one last final time to send it to the floor with a dusty crash and a cough. But that isn't enough -- she kicks it hard enough to send it rolling into the wall, which shakes the PCD into shutting off.]

Les Miserables, written by Victor Hugo. It was originally published in French, in the year 1862. It captures the spirit of the French people, in the way that only Victor Hugo could manage. Some parts of the novel are long and tedious, but the strength and charisma of the characters shine through even through the darkest times.

In 1980, it was played for the first time in Paris as a musical. In 1985, the English adaptation was performed in London. In 1987, it opened on the Great White Way, and has been played there, to sold-out audiences, ever since.

I would like a copy of Victor Hugo's Les Miserables, written in English. If anyone would be so kind as to lend me one, I would be very grateful. If I could keep it -- I can offer several books in return. I don't care what it cost. I need a copy of it. And if anyone finds a recording of the original Broadway soundtrack -- or any soundtrack -- I would give anything for it. It is only important that the numbers Do You Hear The People Sing? and Red & Black are functioning properly for now.

I also require assistance in becoming extremely inebriated. Preferably with someone who is not a psycho-murderer.

I would also like to see Arthur Pendragon.

[There is a tinkling of piano -- a few stray notes -- a few casual scales -- before Rachel tries to sing softly to herself. It's obvious that she's crying. Her breath keeps hitching as she tries to hold back sobs, but Rachel, being Rachel, tries anyway.

The opening chords should be pretty familiar to anyone ~~who has any taste in theatre~~ who knows Rachel.]

Oh, my man I love him so -- he'll never know... all my life is just despair, but I don't care...when he takes me in his arms, the world is bright... alright...

[Her breath hitches and Rachel abruptly stops singing, drawing in a shaky breath, before she tries to continue -- but it just ends in another sob and the feed shuts off abruptly.

There is, however, a text sent afterwards.]

Jesse went home.

[There's the quiet sounds of piano seeping through the network, along with the softest singing:]

525,600 minutes... 525,000 moments so dear... 525,600 minutes... how do you measure, measure a year... in daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, and cups of coffee -- in inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife... in 525,600 minutes -- how do you measure, a year in the life?

How about love... how about love...how about love... measure in love... seasons of love...

[Her voice trails off as she focuses on the piano for a moment or two. Her breathing is even, steady, slow -- and when Rachel continues the song, she sings each part with a special amount of attention, with an extensive amount of emotion and passion as the song goes on.]

525,600 minutes, 525,000 journeys to plan, 525,600 minutes, how do you measure the life of a woman or a man -- ? In truths that she learned, or in times that he cried, in bridges he burned, or the way that she died -- !

[She draws out Collins' note, letting it trail off naturally, before picking up the song again -- it's a quick interpretation, a mild change to the group number -- ]

It's time now to sing out, though the story never ends -- let's celebrate, remember a year in the life of friends -- remember the love -- oh, you've got to, you've got to remember the love -- you know that love is a gift from up above -- share the, give the, spread the love --

[A trail of piano keys as Rachel elects to sing the background chorus instead of hitting Joanne's last high note -- and when the song finally ends, Rachel is quiet, before there is the quiet sound of the lid of the piano closing, and the PCD clicks off soon after.]

ooc; I've been at Adstringendum for one year today. ♥ I love you guys.

[Rachel is on stage, pacing in agitation. She looks positively exhausted -- there are circles underneath her eyes and her hair is pulled back instead of hanging loose around her shoulders, like it normally is. The music following her is quiet, at least -- but soon, drums are heard -- a guitar, and Rachel stops in her tracks, in the dead center of the stage, before she closes her eyes.

And finally decides to give into the event and sing.

She does the choreography perfectly -- the voices heard alongside hers are exactly as Rachel remembers them -- the music is perfect -- and the event purposefully leaves out Rachel's voice, in the 'recording', so that she can sing along. When she gets to the end, she's grinning, and she stops on the edge of the stage, a hand outstretched to the audience, before she begins to speak:]

If we sing that every single week before Nationals, it would help our morale enormously -- because the most important thing, fellow Glee club-bers, is that we remember precisely where we came from. That is our true strength --

[She clasps her hands together.]

I really think we have a shot at beating Vocal Adrenaline, but Finn, you need to project mo --

[But as Rachel looks up, to her right, she stops speaking abruptly. Because there isn't anyone there.

Her shoulders slump slightly as she presses a hand to her forehead, sighing to herself shakily as she turns back towards the curtains.

Someone hates this event way more than she thought she would.]

Current Mood: lonely

i am not coming home tonight

[Nope. That's all you get. ~~Filters are a bitch when you're crying.~~]

ooc: after this post

Current Mood: crushed

It's almost February 14th.

[Rachel is peering at her calendar. She's drawn a heart over February 14th -- Valentine's Day -- but the bubble over her head seems rather somber, for some reason. You would think Rachel -- a girl who loves being loved and sings her heart out -- would look forward to Valentine's Day... but instead, the bubble just looks depressed.

Rachel, however, is well-practiced at her smile, and she looks at the camera almost sunnily.]

What is everyone planning on doing for Valentine's Day?

Current Mood: sad

[Rachel is sitting on her bed, staring almost blankly at the mirror she managed to find and fix up the best she could. Her posture is perfect, her breathing even, but to those that are paying attention very carefully, Rachel's hands are shaking.

Suddenly -- she's on her feet -- and the PCD is in her hands -- ]

You can't help me organize anything and be a co-captain if you leave me here, you --

[And the PCD hits the mirror as Rachel throws it. Luckily, she only has a decent arm, so the mirror doesn't shatter into pieces... it simply cracks.

The PCD slides onto the dresser and Rachel moves towards it, pressing her hands against the worn wood, shaking. Her face is not shown, but the wood of the dresser suddenly has spots of moisture on it, darkened by her tears.

And finally, in a very soft, almost heartwrenching, breath-hitching soprano:]

Inside, my heart is breaking... my make-up may be flaking... but my smile, it stays on...

[A deep breath, and this time, spoken, but faintly:]

Through heart attack or heartbreak, the show must go on.

Current Mood: crushed

[Rachel is lying on her stomach, on her bed, watching the early morning sun through her window. She doesn't look happy, but she doesn't look unhappy either -- more or less content as she looks towards her wall, where she has hung a makeshift calendar.

The date 'December 18th' is circled, a gold star drawn directly in the center of the date. She pushes herself up onto her elbows to stare at it for a moment before pursing her lips in thought, placing her chin in her palms.

The diva seems lost in thought. The feed times out shortly after.

Shortly after the feed, a text is sent.]

[To Kurt // Fail!Filtered]

I think we should begin our auditions for New Directions 2.0 after Christmas.

Current Mood: listless

[Rachel is carefully lighting another candle on her battered menorah, which is sitting in her windowsill, glaring outside at the never-setting sun. She seems to be humming underneath her breath and she sits on her bed to watch the candle flicker, an odd look on her face.

She hasn't ever celebrated Hanukkah without her family before.

But Rachel glances at the PCD and the odd expression is gone in an instant, replaced by a smile of determination.]

Kurt, I think we should begin auditions for a glee club of our own in Adstringendum. I've received several notifications of interest in the subject and I think that as co-captain, I can't ignore the need for entertainment in this city any more. I was considering sometime next week, after the sun has set... it will give us time to gather materials and a proper list of all those interested.

[She then reaches out and shuts off the feed, but not before she looks at her menorah one last time.]

Current Mood: discontent

[There's the sound of a piano playing, strong and well played, as if the person playing the piano has played this number over and over. The piano plays for a minute or two until Rachel sings softly to herself.]

I... wanna hold 'em like they do in Texas please...

[And a well practiced pause ~]

Fold 'em, let 'em hit 'em, baby, raise it, baby, stay with me... love the game, intuition, play the cards with spades to start...and after he's been hooked, I'll play the one that's on his... heart...

[And the piano playing ceases as Rachel stops singing, her voice trailing off as her breath hitches. The recording stops shortly after that.]

Current Mood: crushed

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Rachel Berry

2025

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45 [Voice]
44 [Accidental Video]
39 [Text]
35 [Accidental Voice/Text]
25 [Accidental Voice] 7:30 AM.
24 [Accidental Video]
20 [Text] 12:30 AM.
13 [Video]
12 [Accidental Video]
9 [Accidental Video] Forwarded to early morning.
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Page generated Jun. 7th, 2025 04:16 am

Rachel Berry ★

Being a part of something special makes you special.

Entries tagged with it's lonely at the top

45 [Voice]

44 [Accidental Video]

39 [Text]

35 [Accidental Voice/Text]

25 [Accidental Voice] 7:30 AM.

24 [Accidental Video]

20 [Text] 12:30 AM.

13 [Video]

12 [Accidental Video]

9 [Accidental Video] Forwarded to early morning.

8 [Video]

3 [Accidental Voice] Forwarded to the morning.